


A god and his mortal

by EthanTheAnnus



Series: they're homiesexual,,, the socks r coming off,,, [10]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Angst, Character Death, Death, George is a mortal, Hurt No Comfort, Love, M/M, Romance, dream is the god of the underworld, it is all pain, no beta we die like george in manhunt, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EthanTheAnnus/pseuds/EthanTheAnnus
Summary: “I don’t talk to a single soul who enters my realm with their hearts not beating. They are not my concern.”George was silent for a few moments. “What about me? When I… Enter your realm?”Dream said nothing, and he knew his silence spoke volumes.-OR-Dream is the god of the Underworld. George is a mortal. Their love story was always destined to be a tragedy, in the end.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: they're homiesexual,,, the socks r coming off,,, [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959235
Comments: 18
Kudos: 145





	A god and his mortal

**Author's Note:**

> hehe cry u mortals

“What do you think death is like?” 

Dream tossed the faintly glowing golden apple he held in his palm up into the air, catching it neatly again before speaking. “Does it matter what I think it’s like?”

The mortal beside him, George, nodded. “Of course it does.”

“Let me rephrase that; I can’t die, so why should I even think about death?”

George shrugged. “Why should anyone? I can’t say for certain I will die until the day that I do, but I think about death a lot.”

Dream arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re one of the ‘immortal until proven mortal’ types. I didn’t pin you as one, really.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

The god took in a breath, focusing on not clenching his hand around the apple and crushing it before speaking. “I know what the aftermath of death is. I know the person at the gate, the people who will lead you to your final resting place. To your eternal work. But the moment of death? I could never know.”

George seemed to take a moment to process this. “But you’re surrounded by those people daily. Surely-”

Dream suddenly and violently closed his fingers around the apple, crushing it into nothing but a sticky mess. “I don’t talk to a single soul who enters my realm with their hearts not beating. They are not my concern.”

George was silent for a few moments. “What about me? When I… Enter your realm?”

Dream said nothing, and he knew his silence spoke volumes. George reached out, taking the god’s hand in his own.

“The sky is pretty tonight.”

Dream hummed softly, grateful for the change in subject. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

********

Dream had never taken an interest in mortals before George. They were all the same to him, each with a lifespan shorter than a hellhound and with bodies frailer than even the weakest Shades. 

George was not the same as all the other mortals. Dream had stumbled across him when taking his yearly walk through the world above, his brief respite from the heat and darkness and metallic clangs of the Underworld. Unlike most mortals, George hadn’t cowered at his feet.

Make no mistake, it wasn’t a lack of respect for a god, but rather something else. Later, Dream would find it wasn’t a lack of fear, like he’d first thought; George had admitted in the moment they met, he was terrified. What it had been was the fear of appearing weak in front of someone like Dream, someone immortal and powerful.

And so George had stuck in Dream’s mind. After that encounter, his thoughts always seemed to circle back to the mortal, to the smile that met his eyes, to the way he looked more alive than any of the gods Dream had spoken to in the last millennia.

To say he was smitten was the biggest understatement of the century, but it was the only word Dream could find to convey even a fraction of how he felt. George made his skin tingle and his chest grow warm and his smiles that less rare.

And so it was that the god of the Underworld, the one known for rarely leaving his domain or stopping his work, began to visit the surface weekly- or rather, a particular mortal.

*******

That week, Dream showed up with flowers; a small bouquet of the finest the Underworld had to offer. To any other mortal, they might have looked odd; flowers the same colour as deadly nightshade, others with petals that shaped into a skull, but George smiled so widely it looked like it hurt and kissed Dream so fiercely that he could have sworn he saw stars.

“So you like them?” Dream had asked with a grin when George had pulled back. The mortal rolled his eyes.

“No, I hate them,” he said, the sarcasm in his voice evident. Dream opted just to pull him in and kiss him, leaving the mortal flushed and breathless.

Dream liked days like this; ones spent with George, away from the Underworld, where they existed in their own little bubble, where they could pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

*******

Only two others knew about George and Dream; one was George’s close friend, another mortal by the name of Sapnap. Dream had never met him, but George trusted him with his life, which meant Dream did too. The other was the ferryman of the Underworld, a minor god who Dream had grown close to over the millenia and he was happy to say was his closest, and only, friend, who went by the name of Bad.

He couldn’t have really hid it from Bad, when he was the one to ferry Dream across the River Styx to reach the path up to the surface. Bad is the first to voice something Dream had been too afraid to ever say out loud.

“He’s good for you.”

Dream is startled, almost tipping over the small rowboat as Bad ferries him back to the Underworld. “What?”

“I said he’s good for you,” Bad repeated. “You’re getting out more. You seem happier.”

Dream exhaled, his breath, for now, visible in front of him in the cold, chilly air over the Styx. “I am happier.”

Bad gives him a smile as they dock. Dream doesn’t turn his attention to big, metallic, black and gold gates before them, to the heat filled, machinery laden world of the dead beyond. 

“Thank you,” he says to Bad. The ferryman replies with nothing but a small smile, and Dream steps off the boat, takes in a breath, and prepares himself to return to the depths of the Underworld.

******

The day everything went to hell was a normal day. Sunny, bright, with Dream and George simply sitting in a field bursting with flowers, their fingers intertwined. George had laughed as a bee settled onto his leg, watching as the small thing clambered over him. 

That was when the arrow had hit him in the gut. George’s eyes had gone wide. The bee had flown off. Dream had caught the mortal in his arms before he could fall backwards.

“George! Fuck, I-”

“Dream,” George interrupted, his voice full of pain. “ _ Dream _ .”

The mortal reached up with a shaking, weakened hand to cup the god’s face. A single black tear made its way out of Dream’s eye, running neatly down his cheek.

“I could fix this, I-”

“No,” George said, sounding weaker than ever. “I don’t want to live forever.”

Dream’s eyes were filling with tears and he couldn’t have stopped them if he tried. “I can’t lose you.”

With some effort, George smiled. “You knew you’d lose me eventually. I’ll be in your realm now. For eternity.”

George’s eyes shut tiredly. Dream bit down a scream of anguish. George’s breath grew shallower, and as Dream cradled George in his arms, watching the mortal’s life fade right before him, he wished he could do something, wished he could let golden ichor pour from his veins and into George’s body, granting him immortality and life eternal with Dream. 

But George wouldn’t want that; he’d said it himself, that he didn’t want to live forever. Instead, Dream just held him close and cursed the universe as George succumbed to his frail, mortal, wounded body.

********

Dream could see all from his palace in the Underworld. He could see as Bad rowed George across the Styx, could see as the ferryman seemed saddened. He watched as the two parted ways, he watched as George entered the Underworld.

Dream turned away as George was assigned his eternal work, as a pickaxe was forced into his hands and he was directed towards one of the many mines of the Underworld. He ached to go to George, to hold him close once again, but he knew the rules.

Dream could watch, but not touch; could hear but not speak. He could watch from afar, but never step closer.

His only solace came in knowing that George had lived a good life, and his workload would reflect that- not too much, with plenty of downtime. Dream lifted his chin as he strode through the halls of his palace.

He had the Underworld to run.


End file.
